Never underestimate the power of obsessive love
by Possum132
Summary: AU The Dark Lord chooses Neville Longbottom as the child of the prophecy, James Potter dies, Lily Evans lives and Severus Snape gets the girl. A nasty story. Prequel to And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal.
1. Severus Snape

**Never underestimate the power of obsessive love**

_This is my take on those fics in which Severus Snape finds true love, becomes a family man, and powders babies' bottoms. It is not a nice story, so read on at your peril if you prefer your Snape with a generous side order of nobility._

_AU, but still set in the same version of the Potterverse that is depicted in my canon fics. _

**Chapter 1: Severus Snape**

The Dark Lord had taken care of the matter personally - he hadn't been there, of course, he'd been stuck up at Hogwarts as per usual, out of the action, snooping around after Dumbledore, but he'd heard all about it from Lucius. The Dark Lord had left nothing to chance, the Dark Lord had waited until he, Severus Snape, had reported that Dumbledore had convened a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, and then the Dark Lord had paid a call on the Longbottom household. The Dark Lord hadn't wasted time; he'd killed the old bag of a grandmother who'd been left to mind the baby before she'd even had a chance to raise her wand, and then he'd killed the child. The Dark Lord had made it quick, he'd used the _Avada Kedavra_, the brat had been asleep in its cot, and it hadn't even cried – so much for the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord!

And so much for the parents who had thrice defied the Dark Lord, Frank and Alice Longbottom are dead, too, because once the menace of the prophecy was out of the way, they'd concentrated on targeting the members of the Order of the Phoenix. The Longbottoms, the Prewett brothers, Edgar Bones, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin - they'd all been dealt with ...

Lupin! He'd had to laugh when he'd heard how it happened. Lupin had tried to spy on his fellow werewolves, the hopeless amateur, and he'd been caught out – and Fenrir Greyback had torn Lupin apart. But that still left Potter and Black, and Pettigrew had reported that Black had moved in with the Potters after Lupin's death. And that had really churned him up, even though he'd known that his suspicions were verging on insanity - because what pure-blood wizard would be willing to share his wife with another man?

Peter Pettigrew, the fourth Marauder, he hated Pettigrew – but Pettigrew was another reason for the Dark Lord to be pleased with him, to praise him and reward him. Pettigrew had come sidling up to him after Dumbledore had fallen - the Muggle-loving old fool had been killed by the Dark Lord in a one-on-one duel in Hogsmeade, the battle had really made a mess of the only purely wizarding settlement in Britain, the Muggles believed that an airliner had crashed into it – and he'd had to put his duty to the Dark Lord first. Pettigrew was a disgusting little rat, but he was an Order member, he was a valuable recruit, he had useful information for the Dark Lord.

And some of the useful information that Pettigrew had shared was the precise location of the house at Godric's Hollow and the nature of its defences ... and the Dark Lord had no intention of sticking to the terms of the cease-fire that Millicent Bagnold had asked for. So he'd gone to the Dark Lord, and begged for the job, begged for the opportunity to settle his old scores with Potter and Black. But he hadn't had to beg for Lily's life, the Dark Lord had looked into his eyes and said, "I can see you're … attracted … to the Mudblood witch. You can have her when you've killed the Gryffindor blood-traitors."

He'd even dared to ask that Lily not be Obliviated, because a Memory Charm strong enough to obliterate her memories of James and the baby would leave her an empty shell, it would be worse than killing her, nearly as bad as a Dementor's Kiss, she'd just be a body to use - and the Dark Lord had been gracious.

Godric's Hollow wasn't a soft target, even with the benefit of the information that Pettigrew had provided, and he couldn't risk failure, he couldn't risk disappointing the Dark Lord – not even for Lily's sake. So he'd been glad when Lucius had offered to come along, because while Lucius might act the part of the spoiled aristocratic playboy - drawling and sneering, complaining about a broken finger-nail or a scuff-mark on his dragon-hide boots - the change in him when they put on their Death Eater robes and masks was astonishing, it was like watching the change in a pampered pet Kneazle, lounging on a cushion, when it sees a bird on the window sill.

They'd laid down a barrage of Anti-Disapparation jinxes, and then they'd smashed their way through the defences and into the house. Lily had joined in the fight only briefly, he'd seen her red hair flying like flames in front of him, but before he'd had time to feel fear for her, she'd vanished. And then all thoughts of her had gone out of his mind, because he'd already lost two men - Gibson and Carrow. It had taken three of them, including Lucius, to take Black down, while he held off Potter – and then Potter had been disarmed by a piece of falling masonry knocking the wand out of his hand.

The others had gathered around for the kill, and his first impulse had been to make it slow, to use the Cruciatus Curse to hurt Potter so much that the convulsions would break bones, rupture internal organs, and made blood pour out of every orifice – and then he'd thought, _you haven't got Sirius Black to back you up now, Potter - you're on your own now, and how does that feel?_ So he'd tossed Potter's wand back to him, made it a fair fight.

And that had made his revenge all the sweeter, the _Avada Kedavra_ was too good for Potter, he'd sliced Potter up with his own curse, _Sectumsempra, for enemies_, and then finished him off with his signature hex - a bone-breaking curse that had pulped Potter's entire body.

When the red fog had cleared, he'd remembered Lily - but it was Lucius who'd caught her when the Invisibility Cloak hiding her snagged on something as she tried to creep out past the cordon of Anti-Disapparation jinxes, burdened by the brat in her arms. And when he'd seen her, wandless, trembling, clutching the crying baby with one hand and with the other desperately trying to cover her body with her torn robes, he'd had to stifle a pulse of irrational rage against his best friend.

He'd cast the _Morsmordre_ over the burning wreckage of the house - the honour fell to him as the one who'd planned and led the raid - and then he'd taken Lily by the arm and Disapparated. The moment they'd arrived at the familiar smelly river bank, the brat had started to scream hysterically, and for a moment he'd had an impulse to snatch it from her, hitch up her robes, and claim his prize there and then – after all, he'd won her in fair fight, and he didn't have to ask nicely.

But the look of fear in her eyes had shaken him - she was terrified of him, terrified that he'd hurt her or the child - and in the thousand times he's imagined this scene she's not afraid, she's melting with gratitude, telling him that the marriage to James was a mistake, she'd always wanted him, but she'd thought he wasn't interested ... in his fantasies, she hasn't been shrinking away from him, she's been eager and willing.

So he'd slipped the Anti-Disapparation bracelet - the Dark Lord's own invention for restraining prisoners - onto her wrist, and escorted her through the winding streets, and finally the baby had stopped howling, but they hadn't spoken, they'd walked on in silence. He'd kept a very firm grip on her arm and a sharp eye out for Muggle police - a pure-blood witch would be helpless without a wand in a Muggle area, but Lily was Muggle-born, and she was tough, capable – and she was a Gryffindor, she might do something reckless. And he really didn't want Muggle attention being drawn to Spinner's End – not the kind of attention a cop-killing would attract.

He'd flushed a little with shame when he'd opened the front door into the dingy little sitting room, shame that he'd had to bring her to this stinking dump, nothing like the comfortable Evans family home that he'd visited once or twice before she married Potter - and he took the Dark Mark.

He'd moved back into Spinner's End when Hogwarts was closed down after Dumbledore's death – the place had been empty for years, since his mother died of grief or drink or both, she'd actually pined for his filthy Muggle father - but he really only used the place for sleeping, and for brewing the potions commissioned by the Dark Lord.

He'd locked the door – magically, and in the Muggle way – and shown her around the place, his old bedroom would do for the baby, he could transfigure the bed into a cot easily enough. Then he'd shown her the bedroom that had belonged to his parents, and said, "This is our room."

He'd didn't use magic at Spinner's End unless he really had to - the house isn't known to the Ministry and he'd prefer that it stayed that way so it's warded to hide the use of magic, but every use of magic requires the wards to be replenished – so he'd rustled through the fridge and found some bread and milk for the baby, and then waited for Lily to get the brat settled down to sleep.

He'd waited patiently for her, naked under the sheets, listening first to the murmur of her voice soothing the baby, and then to the sound of water running in the bathroom, and finally she'd come into the room wrapped only in a towel and slipped into bed beside him. He'd turned off the bedside light, he wasn't ashamed of his body - he wasn't as muscled as James but he'd filled out a lot since he was a weedy fifteen year old - but somehow it seemed the right thing to do.

He'd stroked her hair, and if she'd slapped his face, he didn't know what he'd have done, but she hadn't pushed him away, so he'd kissed her. He hadn't tried to slip his tongue into her mouth, but he'd stroked her breasts, and then let his hand drift further down – her stomach muscles were as tight as a drum, and he'd realised that she was as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night, Lily Evans had never looked at, never touched any boy other than James Potter ...

He could smell her hair – she hadn't washed it, it still smelt of the same brand of Muggle shampoo that she'd always used at school, and of smoke and magic, of the burning wreckage of the house at Godric's Hollow, and the smell was maddening, intoxicating – and then he couldn't stop himself from nudging her legs apart, because he'd been as frantic to get inside her as any importunate teenager. And while it hadn't been quite what he'd hoped for, because in his dreams she'd always been wildly responsive, it was still good, and better than his fantasies, really, because she was still there afterwards, alive and real and warm in his arms.

He'd cuddled up to her, draped his arm over her, and she hadn't pulled away from him. He'd been sleepy and contented, and then she'd said, softly, "Sometimes Harry cries in the night and I have to get up to him." He'd just grunted, that was OK.

And the brat had cried, the unfamiliar sound had woken him at once. She'd gone to the baby, and when she came back, when she'd crawled back into the bed beside him, he'd wanted her again, and this time he'd coaxed her into letting him kiss her properly. And the second time it was actually nicer - he'd been less frenzied, because he'd already marked her as his in a way that every male will understand, and if she wasn't as eager as he would have liked, she was clearly willing.

When he'd woken in the morning, he'd been puzzled for a moment by the long red hair spread over the pillow, but then he'd remembered the raid on Godric's Hollow. He could hardly believe that he'd actually managed to pull the crazy scheme off – Lily Evans was _his_, she was safe in his bed - and it had been the single happiest moment of his life, better even than the day on which the Dark Lord had honoured him with the Dark Mark.

Really, it was kind of a weird situation, hell, he'd never lived with a witch before, he'd never actually had what you could call a girlfriend, either - not the sort of girlfriend you took out to dinner and bought flowers and chocolates for. But he couldn't go wrong being polite - and he was never going to start treating her the way his father had treated his mother. That had started with insults, when he was six years old and his mother couldn't hide his uncontrolled, accidental magic any longer. His father had called his mother _freak_ and _deceitful bitch_, but pretty quickly it had become something worse than insults – and he could never understand it, his mother was a witch, she could have hexed his father to hell and back, so why didn't she? Why hadn't she used her magic to protect herself – and him?

And Lily reminded him of his mother, the way she did things around the house Muggle-style, just like his mother, who had never dared to use her magic to make her life easier. And that memory had made him snarl a little, to think of a witch cooking and scrubbing and working her fingers to the bone, just like a filthy Muggle. But it was nice, coming home to a house with the lights on and a meal cooking, and he just liked having her there, she was a companionable presence while he looked through his Dark Arts books or organised his potions ingredients. And, well, he didn't exactly play with the brat, hell, what did he know of babies? But it was easy enough to hold it on his knee while Lily was busy, and to turn the pages of a Muggle picture book. And it was a bright enough little thing, it was learning to repeat the names of the animals in _Where's Spot?_ And when he showed some interest in the baby, Lily smiled at him, she'd even touch him, run her hand over his shoulder as she walked past.

He worried about her, it wasn't much of a life, cooped up in Spinner's End, under virtual house-arrest, but the war was really hotting up, and she wasn't safe outside his wards, Lily Evans was a known Muggle-born and she was at risk of being killed on sight if he wasn't there to protect her.

And then there were the Muggles – Spinner's End was in a rough neighbourhood, and Lily had no wand - so he never let her out of the house alone. And when he escorted her to the Muggle shops or to take the kid to the swings in the mangy little park where he'd played as a boy, he was glad that the child, with its black hair and green eyes, could pass for his, because he didn't want anyone thinking that she was one of the local Muggle sluts with a string of bastards to half a dozen different men.

He often brought her little gifts and trifles – Muggle books and music, toys for the baby, even flowers sometimes - and she seemed to be warming to him, of course it was going to take time, and he'd got used to the idea that she was no sexual enthusiast, it wasn't the Karma Sutra in the bedroom but he wasn't getting bored with her, quite the reverse. When he wasn't with her he thought about her constantly, and he craved her, the more he had her the more he wanted her, as that Muggle playwright said, _As if increase of appetite had grown by what it fed on ..._

He was more cautious in the fighting now, reckless bravery was for idiot Gryffindors anyway, but he couldn't afford to take chances - if anything happened to him, Lily and the child would be without a protector. And he didn't hang around now after a successful raid, he didn't want to drink and celebrate with the rest of them, he wanted to Apparate home as soon as he decently could.

And often in the evenings they'd watch Muggle TV together, curled up on the shabby old sofa, while the boy crawled about the sitting room - now that Harry was starting to take a few steps he'd had to put up some shelves, Muggle-style, with a hammer and nails, so that his Dark Arts books were well out of Harry's reach. Not that it was all plain sailing, sometimes the kid screamed and yelled and drove him mad, but he just went outside and smoked until the tantrum was over – he'd stopped smoking in the house, not that Lily had ever said anything, but he'd seen something on TV about the dangers of smoking around children.

He was away from home for two days during the final battle to establish the Dark Lord's regime, the battle in which half the Ministry building had been destroyed - he hadn't even had a chance to send an owl to tell Lily that he was OK, and when he'd walked through the door it was obvious that she was glad to see him, you didn't need to be a Legilimens to see _that_, not that he ever used the spell against her, any more than he'd use it against Lucius or Narcissa, that would be a violation.

She'd looked anxious, so he'd reassured her, the blood that spattered his cloak wasn't his – most of it, anyway - and he'd been aching to see her, absolutely aching, so despite the blood and the grime and the exhaustion, he'd lifted her up on the kitchen table and made love to her, there and then. Afterwards, Lily had told him that she was pregnant, and for a moment he'd felt an awful fear that it was James' - but it couldn't be, the dates weren't right - and then more fear, because how would the Dark Lord react to this news? And what did he know of being a father anyway ...

But then he'd felt joy, because of course she'd always love Harry, he was her first-born, but when she held _his_ son in her arms, she'd forget James. So he'd reassured her, told her that he loved her, and that he could protect her and the baby. There'd been heavy casualties when they stormed the Ministry, and casualties meant promotion - he was guaranteed of a high position in the Dark Order, he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts to teach god-awful Potions under Igor Karkarov, who'd been promised the position of Headmaster. And they'd have a better house soon, much better than the squalid little dump at Spinner's End; one of those big mansions that come with house-elves ... a nice place in the country, well away from Muggles, with fresh air and room for the children to have pets and fly their broomsticks.

Afterwards, as they'd snuggled on the couch, Lily had switched on the wireless and they'd listened to the Dark Lord's address to the wizarding community. He'd heard the Dark Lord say that he'd already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the change of regime, and then he'd dozed off for a moment, until he'd caught what the Dark Lord was saying about Muggle-borns, they are to report to the Ministry building, their wands will be broken, they'll be Obliviated and re-settled amongst the Muggles – but his hand had tightened on Lily's arm, because he couldn't believe that, it's much more likely that the Muggle-borns will be shipped off somewhere and killed.

So he'd screwed up all his courage, gone to the Dark Lord and begged a favour on bended knee, and the Dark Lord had raised an eyebrow, asked why he wanted to marry his Mudblood mistress. He'd said, "I don't want my son to be born a bastard" – and the Dark Lord had been indulgent ... and the next day they'd seen Ollivander, and got Lily a new wand.

The Dark Lord had been more than indulgent, the Dark Lord had showered him with favours, he'd been appointed head of the Goblin Liaison Office - effectively head of Gringotts Bank, under the new administrative structure - and he had quite a talent for dealing with goblins, the nasty tricky little bastards. Wringing the amount of Galleons out of them that the Dark Lord needed for reconstruction work wasn't easy, but he had a surprising knack for administration, and they couldn't fool him with a lot of technical jargon about the difficulties of curse-breaking and treasure recovery. Ragnok had tried to blackmail him once, tried to hold his Muggle father over his head – Merlin knows how Ragnok had dug _that_ up - and he'd been amused, because of course the Dark Lord knew that he was a half-blood, he'd never been stupid enough to try to hide that from the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen, and the Dark Lord hadn't been concerned that he was a lowly half-blood, he'd said _this will be our little secret_. So he'd gestured towards the fireplace, said, "We can Floo to the Ministry at once, the Dark Lord is generally willing to see me without an appointment, if it's important ..." – and that had shut Ragnok up.

But the greatest favour the Dark Lord had shown him was to attend his wedding as the guest of honour - Lucius had been his best man, the cream of society had been invited, and it had all gone very well, even if the most cleverly cut robes couldn't hide the fact that Lily was six months pregnant. The Dark Lord had done Lily the honour of dancing with her, and he'd known then that she was safe, he enjoyed the favour of the Dark Lord, and no one would now dare to say anything about Lily's Muggle origins. He'd had a quiet word with Rita Skeeter about that, with her red hair Lily could pass as a by-blow of one of the tribe of Weasleys, and it was better for her to be rumoured to be the bastard of a blood-traitor than to be known as a Mudblood. Lucius had danced with Lily, too, but he hadn't liked seeing Lucius with his hand on Lily's waist at all, even though Lily didn't care for Lucius and the idea that there could ever be anything between them was ridiculous.

And they had a splendid new home - the house-elves had been a little shocked that the Master and the Mistress wouldn't have separate suites of rooms – and life was getting back to normal, Hogwarts had reopened - the Dark Lord took a keen personal interest in wizarding education - and he liked to think that Lily was happy. She had friends, Narcissa was civil - it helped that she was also expecting another baby - and Harry and Draco were of an age and played nicely enough together, for toddlers, although things would probably change when they grew up, if they were Sorted into different Houses. And it was better if Harry took his name and was brought up knowing nothing of his biological father – he'd discussed it with Lily, and she agreed.

Of course, their sex life had stopped as she grew bigger and bigger, but that was normal - from what Lucius had told him of married life – and he didn't really mind. Lily was still beautiful in his eyes, her swollen belly wasn't unsightly to him, and he loved her even more now that she was going to give him a son. But a wizard has needs, so once or twice - or maybe a little more often than that - he'd banged one of the young witches at the office, hell, he got plenty of opportunities and he couldn't be expected to always say no - or he'd gone out to a bar with Lucius, after work, looking for some action.

Actually, they'd been at Malfoy Manor when Lily's contractions started, a very pleasant lunch, while Draco and Harry wobbled about on their toy broomsticks - he'd been listening to Lucius boasting that Draco could fly as soon as he could walk, and who would believe that one day he and Lucius would be arguing the merits of the safety charms on various brands of children's broomsticks?

So now he's in St Mungo's, there's quite a trend for younger wizards to be present at the birth of their children but frankly he's squeamish about that sort of thing, he'd been delighted when Lily told him, very firmly, that she didn't want him there – so he's just chain-smoking and pacing up and down, waiting for it to be over ... and when the Healers tell him that the baby is a girl and that he can see mother and child, he's utterly taken aback, he'd been so sure that it was a boy.

Looking at the little pink scrap, he thinks, _I've never seen anything so unappealing in my life_ ... and then he thinks, _sweet Merlin, I hope she doesn't have my hair and nose_ ... it's hard to tell, the baby's face is so squashed-looking, but she doesn't seem to have his beak of a nose, and her hair is fair, not black.

And then he remembers how boys had clustered around Lily, and he will be having a word with Karkarov when the time comes, because he's damned if he's going to allow any randy teenage wizards to make assignations on the Astronomy Tower with _his_ daughter ... and he must send an owl to Lucius and Narcissa, to tell them that Harry has a sister, and they'll call her Eileen, after his mother – unless Lily really hates the name ...


	2. Lily Evans

**Never underestimate the power of obsessive love**

**Chapter 2: Lily Evans**

They'd been discussing the war when the house was attacked – things had gone very badly for the Order since Voldemort killed Dumbledore in a one-on-one duel in Hogsmeade, and gone very badly for the Ministry, too, because it wasn't just terrorism any more, it was a full-scale civil war. Actually, they'd been _arguing_ about the war - whether the peace negotiations between the Ministry and Voldemort had any chance of succeeding, OK, there was a cease-fire, but how long before it was broken?

Then they'd argued over why so many pure-bloods hated Muggles and Muggle-borns so much, and sometimes she thought that James and Sirius hadn't paid _any_ attention during History of Magic; witchburnings weren't just funny stories about Wendelin the Weird, the Muggles had killed people – she was Muggle-born, she knew that Muggles could be dangerous ... and the gap between magic and Muggle technology has narrowed a lot since the days of Wendelin the Weird, the Muggles have put a man on the moon and found a way to turn matter into energy.

And then they'd argued over whether all Slytherins are evil, Voldemort was a Slytherin, and many of the known Death Eaters were Slytherin, but Horace Slughorn wasn't, and neither was Alastor Moody or Dorcas Meadowes - that was why Voldemort had gone to the trouble of killing them all personally – and it made life very hard for the rest. She'd pointed out that Gryffindors dominated the Ministry, the only high ranking Slytherin was Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but Sirius couldn't see that, he was so angry with his family, and James - well, James was a Gryffindor and House loyalty was everything to him.

James and Sirius had kept dismissing what she said, they'd told her that she was Muggle-born, she didn't understand wizarding politics, and dammit, she wasn't trying to justify Voldemort and his terror tactics, but she couldn't help fuming over the fact that Severus, nasty Slytherin bastard that he was, never patronised her, never shrugged off anything she said just because she was Muggle-born - and that had started off yet another argument.

James and Sirius hated Severus, they were convinced that he was a Death Eater, but she'd defended him, because Dumbledore had hired him to teach Potions - Dumbledore would never have allowed a Death Eater under the roof of Hogwarts - and Severus wasn't that bad, really. Not that there was anything to get excited about, they'd been friends in their NEWT year but she hardly saw him these days, she hadn't spoken to him for months.

And why shouldn't she have sent him a wedding invitation - James' parents had invited heaps of people that she either didn't know or didn't like, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and her husband Lucius, for example. And Lucius was almost certainly a Death Eater, she didn't dispute _that_ – and a very bad influence on Severus. She'd seen them together on Hogsmeade weekends a couple of times, and Severus had pretended that she was invisible – which hurt, and he wasn't like that when they were alone in Professor Slughorn's classroom together, late at night, bent over a cauldronful of one of Slughorn's more temperamental elixirs.

And she knew Severus didn't believe in all that pure-blood nonsense because he was a half-blood himself - when he'd told her that she'd been overwhelmed with pity for him, because it must be a special kind of hell, being a half-blood Sorted into Slytherin, and she'd promised that she wouldn't tell his secret to anyone, and by that she really meant the Marauders. She'd asked, "Which is the Muggle parent, your mother or your father?" And he'd said, "My father", and he'd had such an ugly look on his face that she hadn't asked any more questions.

It was kind of weird that one of the people that she'd felt most comfortable with at school was Severus Snape, the nasty little Slytherin who'd feuded relentlessly with the Marauders from the day they'd all started school, but James - who'd hex anyone who called her a Mudblood to hell and back - was in so many ways a typical pure-blood, he didn't know anything much about Muggles and he wasn't interested in knowing anything about them. She loved James dearly, but he was clueless sometimes, he claimed to have been crazy about her from the day that he first set eyes on her, but he'd thought that being handsome, charming, athletic, wealthy and popular was enough to attract any girl - he hadn't thought for a minute of taking an OWL in Muggle Studies, of trying to get to know anything about her world.

And Severus had apologised for the Mudblood insult when Slughorn teamed them together for the NEWTs, he'd muttered an apology, and she'd known that he was as embarrassed as she was ... and from then on she'd made a concerted effort to be nice to him, and once he got to know her a little he'd been surprisingly good company, he had a wicked sense of humour, and he knew a lot about Muggle stuff – books and films and music, and even mundane things like how toasters worked - she'd wondered even before he told her that he was a half-blood how he could have picked up so much from a couple of years of Muggle Studies.

James and Sirius had kept banging on about Severus being a Death Eater, and she'd thought – and if he has joined Voldemort, who's fault is that? The way James and Sirius had tormented him at school - and that was a memory that still stung, that incident during the OWLs ... _Go on ... go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again_, and she, she'd been as bad as James, she'd joined in the taunting, _I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus_. When she'd cooled down, she'd been ashamed of the way that she'd behaved, because how was a teenage Slytherin boy going to react to being rescued by a Gryffindor, a Muggle-born, a _girl?_ Boys are so funny and touchy sometimes ... so she'd gone to Professor McGonagall, told her the full story, and demanded that something be done.

She'd been furious with Remus, too, pretending to read a book, pretending it wasn't happening, and she'd wondered if he'd been the right choice for prefect, because to James' credit he'd grown up a lot in seventh year, when he was made Head Boy - and if he'd been given the responsibility of prefect duties earlier, he might have lifted his game, risen to the occasion, and reined Sirius in, because Remus wasn't strong enough to stand up to Sirius. But she couldn't be too hard on poor dear dead Remus ...

And then the door had been smashed in, flashes of green and red light everywhere, and James had shouted to her, _Lily, take Harry and go! It's them! Go! Run! We'll hold them off ..._

She would have fought with James and Sirius if it wasn't for Harry, she would have fought, and sold her life dearly, but she couldn't risk Harry's life – so she'd crept away, trying to find a way through the cordon of Anti-Disapparation jinxes, holding Harry pressed close to her body with one hand, the other clamped over his mouth to prevent him from crying and giving them away, and there wasn't a spare hand to hold James' Invisibility Cloak tightly around them.

The cloak had snagged on something, and the tall man in the black robes and silver mask had snatched her wand, snapped it in half, and then he'd reached down and ripped her robes, and she'd thought, he'll take Harry from my arms and kill him in front of me before he rapes me, because that's what they always do with the Mudblood witches ... and she'd been so sure that they were both going to die, she'd begun to repeat the prayer her Muggle parents had taught her as a child, _Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us ..._

But he hadn't hurt her, he'd pulled off his mask, and she hadn't really been surprised to see Lucius Malfoy's face. Malfoy had shaken out his mane of silver blond hair, and then he'd dragged her to the man who was clearly their leader, and that had been a shock, because it was Severus – although she'd been too numb with fear and grief to really care, because when he'd cast the _Morsmordre_ she'd known that James and Sirius must be dead, the Death Eaters only cast the Dark Mark when they've killed.

But when they'd Apparated to that smelly river bank, for a wild moment she'd hoped that he was going to let her go, for a wild moment she'd hoped that Severus was a double-agent, one of Dumbledore's spies ... but he'd stared at Harry, screaming hysterically in her arms – babies hate Apparating – with that look of loathing that at school he always reserved for James, and then at her, with a hungry, wolfish look on his face, and she'd been terrified.

He'd slipped an Anti-Disapparation bracelet – she'd recognised what it was, Voldemort's own invention for restraining prisoners - onto her wrist, and escorted her through the winding streets, gripping her firmly by the arm, but what could she have done, even if she had seen a Muggle police car? Severus had a wand, he could kill a couple of Muggles easily, even if they did have guns ...

He'd shown her around the dingy little house, she'd guessed that it must have been his childhood home, and when he'd taken her into the room with the double bed and said, "This is our room," she'd understood why she was still alive – but why hadn't Severus killed Harry, if he wanted so much to be revenged on James?

She'd got Harry settled down - it had taken a while, because he didn't like being in a strange place – and then she'd showered, but she couldn't find any shampoo so she hadn't washed her hair, and then she'd crept into the bedroom, wrapped only in a towel, and slipped into the bed beside Severus. He'd stunk of smoke and blood and Dark magic, and she'd lain beside him, stiff with fear, while he kissed and stroked her - at first he'd been as tentative as James on their wedding night, but then he'd been frenzied, as if he was trying to exorcise the memory of James from her body, and she'd just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. But it could have been worse, he could have forced her to swallow a love potion ...

Afterwards, Severus had thrown his arm around her and gone to sleep, but she'd stayed awake, waiting for Harry to cry in the night, and she wasn't a pure-blood witch, helpless without a wand, she was Muggle-born, she could use a knife, a frying pan – stab or bludgeon him, and once he was dead, she could ransack the house, find where he'd hidden his wand, escape ... but if she failed, what might he do? And Harry was asleep in the next room ...

So she'd done nothing, and the days turned into weeks, and it was ... bearable; Severus always spoke to her with careful civility, for all the world as if they were still friends - she'd realised that he was trying to court her, to woo her with little gifts, but she'd nearly been sick the first time she saw the Dark Mark burning black on his arm and realised what it was. And Severus was often Summoned, the Death Eaters were becoming bolder, there were frequent raids in broad daylight - she'd listen to the reports of the raids on the Wizarding Wireless Network, and then she'd switch on the Muggle radio, to hear about train derailments and collapsing bridges and theatre fires, and it was clear that the Department of Magical Catastrophes was struggling to keep up. She'd wondered, was Voldemort _trying_ to start a war with the Muggles? And she'd been really frightened, because the Muggles have weapons of dreadful power, nuclear weapons - and if they knew what they were up against, they might use them.

Then one day the Wizarding Wireless Network had fallen silent, the Muggle radio was full of reports of massive explosions in central London, the IRA were denying all responsibility, and she'd known it was the end. She'd sat in the kitchen, while Harry wriggled in her arms, and wondered what she was going to do if anything had happened to Severus. Without a protector, they had no hope, because there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, Mafalda Hopkirk had told her once how the Office for the Improper Use of Magic detects underage magic and they'd find her as soon as Harry started to manifest his magic - and it wouldn't mean a Hogwarts letter, it would mean death.

When Severus finally came home, she'd almost wept with relief, there was blood on his cloak and she'd been afraid, but the blood - most of it - wasn't his. He'd fumbled at her robes, too eager to even take her upstairs, and afterwards she'd dared to tell him that she was pregnant. He'd stared at her with narrowed eyes, she'd been afraid that he was angry but he'd stroked her hair, kissed her, assured her that he loved her and that he could protect her, he had the favour of the Dark Lord and he could protect her and her children.

Afterwards, as they'd snuggled on the couch, she'd switched on the wireless and they'd listened to the Dark Lord's address to the wizarding community. She'd heard him say that he'd already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the change of regime, and then the Dark Lord had gone on to say that the wizarding world will be isolated from the Muggles, magical elementary schools will be established so that wizard children never have to mix with Muggles; half-bloods will be tolerated - but they must give up all contact with their Muggle parent and other Muggle relatives, and there are to be no more mixed marriages. And then the Dark Lord had said that Muggle-borns were to report to the Ministry building, their wands will be broken, they'll be Obliviated and re-settled amongst the Muggles – but from the way that Severus' hand had tightened on her arm, she known that it was a lie, the Muggle-borns who turned themselves in would be shipped off somewhere and killed.

So Severus had gone to his Dark Lord and begged for permission to marry her, and to her amazement it had been granted – she'd realised then, for the first time, how high Severus had risen in the Dark Lord's favour - and they'd gone to Ollivander the next day and got her a new wand.

Shortly afterwards they'd moved into an echoing empty mausoleum of a house, and she didn't even want to know the identity of the blood-traitors who'd been the previous owners. But it had beautiful grounds, a swimming pool, a maze, swings and a treehouse - and a Quidditch pitch, not full size, but an excellent practice pitch – and the confused, bereft house-elves who'd lost the family they'd served for a dozen generation had latched on to her and Harry, the Mistress and the Young Master.

After their engagement was announced, there'd been visitors, respectable pure-blood witches, agog to see the Mudblood whore who'd ensnared one of the Dark Lord's chief lieutenants. But she didn't care, really, provided that they were civil to her face and brought playmates for Harry - Harry dearly loved his Kneazle kitten and the beautiful Snowy Owl that Severus had bought for her, but Harry needed children to play with.

And Narcissa wasn't so bad, really - she was an empty-headed twit who never thought of anything but Lucius and Draco, but there was no real malice in her, she wasn't like her sister Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy parroted the pure-blood propaganda but without any great passion. It helped that they were both expecting their second child - the babies would be born within a couple of months of each other - and Narcissa had softened towards her when she saw how nicely Harry and Draco played together. And Draco was a dear little thing, it was hard to believe that Lucius could have sired such a sweet little boy, and if anything she felt sorry for Narcissa - Narcissa was spoiled and vain and wilfully blind, and not very smart, but she was punished a thousand times by the tragedy of loving a monster like Lucius.

Their wedding had been something of a nightmare, the Dark Lord had been the guest of honour, she'd danced with him, and it had made her flesh crawl when he put his hand on her waist, he'd let it slide across her stomach and he'd wished her well in her pregnancy, expressed the hope that she would give Severus many sons, many sons to raise as faithful Death Eaters, and daughters, too, to be the mothers of future Death Eaters.

She'd had to dance with Lucius, too, he was the best man – and the most evil wizard she'd ever met, after the Dark Lord. She hated the way that he acted as if he owned Severus, their friendship was like a twisted parody of the rapport that had existed between James and Sirius – best not to think of James, though – better never to think of James ... Yes, she loathed Lucius Malfoy, in the privacy of her own head she thought of him as the Prince of Darkness, and when Lucius put his hand on her waist it had frightened her, because Lucius hated her, he hated all Mudbloods - and he would be merciless, it would make no difference to him that it was Severus' baby, she'd imagined him holding his wand against her stomach, saying the spell that would kill her unborn child in the womb.

And then she'd realised that Severus was watching them, watching them closely, and she'd thought, Severus doesn't like Lucius touching me ... and she'd known then that she'd won, her children are safe, the Dark Lord himself has blessed her marriage - and for her sake, Severus would be ready to destroy even his best friend. She'd thought, the Dark Lord will mark Harry as a servant as soon as he's of age, as soon as he's seventeen, but he will l_ive_, my son will live ...

And when Harry had showed his first sign of magic, she'd been so thrilled and excited, she'd called Severus to see it and she'd confessed to him that she'd been afraid that Harry might be a Squib, because she was Muggle-born. And he'd just raised an eyebrow, and told her that he'd never considered it for a minute, because, my love, you're a brilliant witch. And then he'd scowled, it had looked as if it hurt him to say the words, and added – and James was a powerful wizard ...

But they'd agreed that it would be better if Harry took the name of Snape and was brought up knowing nothing of his biological father, that Harry didn't know that he was only a half-brother to the new baby ... and now she's in St Mungo's, holding the tiny pink scrap, it's a little girl, and she's afraid for a minute that Severus will be disappointed, he'd been so sure that it was a boy – but when she sees the look on his face at the sight of his own child in her arms, she knows that everything is going to be all right, and he wants to name the baby Eileen, after his mother ...


	3. Lucius Malfoy

**Never underestimate the power of obsessive love**

** Chapter 3: Lucius Malfoy**

Godric's Hollow wasn't a soft target, and they'd lost Gibson and Carrow – not any great loss, in his opinion - and a fair exchange for Potter and Black, who were individually two of the Order's most formidable wizards and almost unbeatable when they worked as a team, and the Dark Lord had not been displeased. It had been the first time Severus had the honour of leading a raid - the opportunity to settle some old scores had been Severus' reward for bringing the news of the prophecy to the Dark Lord – and he'd been keenly interested to see how his best friend would handle his first command, even though he'd had every confidence that the raid would be a success. It's true that Severus' family are nothing much - it was clearly a sensitive topic, so he never asked too many questions and all he knew was that the father's family were refugees from the Grindelwald war and the mother was a Slytherin - Severus was an exceptional wizard, and he'd proved himself again and again in the Dark Lord's service.

Black had died first, it had taken three of them to take him down, while Severus held off Potter, and then Potter had been disarmed by a piece of falling masonry knocking the wand out of his hand. They'd gathered around for the kill, but Severus had decided to have a bit of fun, and he'd tossed Potter's wand back to him, and to be fair to Potter, the blood-traitor had put up an excellent show. But Severus had killed him in the end, he'd torn Potter apart - Severus had disdained to use the _Avada Kadavra_, he'd cut Potter to ribbons with his own curse, _Sectumsempra_, and then finished him off with his signature hex, a bone-breaking curse that had pulped Potter's entire body.

The Mudblood witch had joined in the fight only briefly, he'd seen her red hair flying like flames in front of him, and then she'd vanished, she'd tried to save her baby – and she'd nearly succeeded. The Invisibility Cloak must have snagged on something as she tried to creep out past the cordon of Anti-Disapparation jinxes, burdened by the brat in her arms, and all he'd had to do was snatch the wand out of her hand. He'd snapped it in two, and the girl had stared at him, wild-eyed, as if she'd bite him if he tried to take the squalling lump from her arms.

Then he'd pulled off his silver mask, let her see his face – he had nothing to fear, Lily Evans won't be running to the Aurors to tell tales on him, the son and heir of the Malfoy estate - reached down and ripped her robes, pulled them down off her shoulder so that he could see her breasts, and he'd thought, she's really rather luscious, if she wasn't Severus' property, I'd fancy pushing her down in the dirt where she belongs, myself.

He'd been a little surprised that Severus was so insistent that the howling baby in her arms not be harmed - the Mudblood slut, she was married to Potter but she was probably sleeping with both of the blood-traitors, so who knows if the black-haired brat was Potter's or Black's? Well, either way, presumably Severus had a little amusement in mind, and who was he to interfere?

He hadn't expected to Severus to join in the usual post-mission celebrations that night, Severus would be otherwise occupied - but the redhaired Mudblood had turned out to be more than a few days entertainment. He'd been first puzzled, and then annoyed by how long it was taking Severus to tire of screwing James Potter's wife – and by how Severus had flared up when he'd made a joke about it, suggested that if Lily Evans was such a good root, she ought to be shared around. But then the war had really hotted up, and he had other things to think about – he was often Summoned, the raids were in broad daylight now, the Muggle newspapers were full of train derailments and collapsing bridges and theatre fires, and it was clear that the Department of Magical Catastrophes was struggling to keep up.

Nothing could stop the rise of the Dark Order, but the fighting had still been ferocious at the end, and he'd been away from home for two days during the final battle to establish the Dark Lord's regime, the battle in which half the Ministry building had been destroyed.  
He hadn't even had a chance to send an owl to tell his pure-blood princess that he was OK, and when he'd returned, Narcissa had wept with joy and relief, and she'd been so eager for him that she couldn't even wait to for him to go upstairs and wash off the blood and the grime, so he'd had his lovely young wife on the study desk – she'd held him to her, murmured how much she loves him, and although he can't be sure, he likes to think that it was at that moment that she'd conceived the second child that they both wanted so desperately.

And afterwards he'd turned on the wireless and listened with satisfaction to the Dark Lord's address to the wizarding community, he'd thought, the struggle to purify the wizarding world was worth it - and that's why he'd taken the Dark Mark, because what could the Dark Lord have offered him that he didn't have already? Money, position, power? The Malfoys have always had those things … not that he objected to being appointed to an important position in the Dark Order, he'd been promised the position of Head of the Department of Magical Co-operation – to the European Ministries, he'll be the handsome, urbane face of the new regime.

And the Dark Lord will kill all the Mudbloods, his announcement that they'd be Obliviated and resettled amongst Muggles was just a ploy - and he'd thought, Severus will have to get rid of the bitch now. But Severus had moved his Mudblood mistress into the house that the Dark Lord had given to him, and he'd thought, Severus is acting like a man under the influence of _Amortentia_ and the Mudblood is reputed to have some talent as a Potions brewer - so he'd gone to the Dark Lord. But the Dark Lord had told him something that had really shattered him – the Dark Lord had told him that he'd given permission for Severus to marry the Mudblood – and he'd known the Dark Lord well enough to keep his mouth shut after that.

And he couldn't forbid Narcissa to visit after the engagement was publicly announced, she was agog to met the Mudblood whore who'd ensnared one of the Dark Lord's chief lieutenants – and he couldn't openly show his loathing for the slut, not if he wanted to keep his friendship with Severus, he was besotted with her. And he'd had to dance with the filthy Mudblood at the wedding – after all, he was the best man - and as he'd slid his hand around her waist he'd thought of what he'd really like to do, press the tip of his wand against her belly and say the words that would kill the half-blood abomination she carried, kill it dead in her womb. But he'd known that the battle was over, she'd won, because Severus would never give her up now that the bitch was pregnant with his son.

And now he's reading Severus' letter, _Harry has a sister, we've named her Eileen, for my mother _... and he's thinking, a girl, a daughter - not as valuable as a son, but the Mudblood will give him sons in time ... Eileen, that's not a very common pure-blood name, didn't my father tell me a story once of a pure-blood witch of good family, Eileen Prince, who lowered herself to mate with a Muggle? And then he thinks, no, there can't be any connection ...


End file.
